it's a wild kind of love
by saltzmans
Summary: Derek ends up in a tutu and it's all Stiles' fault—pack fancy dress night; sterek.


**notes** | some lighthearted sterek because the show has been so bloody miserable recently.

* * *

It's all Stiles' fault.

Which is coincidently how most things tend to start off these days, Derek thinks to himself later, part bitterly and part fondly.

After all, who else would have the idea to have Pack Fancy Dress Night?

.

Derek hates the idea from the moment the words come out of Stiles' mouth. Fancy Dress. God, he can't of actually doing anything worse than that. Except maybe a romantic dinner for two with Gerrad Argent.

But even then he's still partly convinced that fancy dress would be worse than a candlelit night with everyone's favourite psychotic grandpa.

For a moment, after Stiles sprouts the idea one completely normal — (well, as normal for them as it gets these days) — fancy dress-less night, silence falls over the Pack.

There's a long triumphant pause in which Derek is almost 100% sure everyone is going to disagree with it and he'll be saved but then—

"Oh my god, that's genius!"

"This makes me so nostalgic!"

"I can't wait!"

Derek buries his head in the empty pizza box on his lap.

Ah, shit.

.

For a week Derek manages to avoid the words"fancy dress" and he discovers that he's particularly apt at steering the conversation away from that particular subject—

("Hey, Derek, so what're you wearing on—"

"Utter another word and I swear I will end you.")

—but eventually to his dismay, the big day rolls round.

.

Scott and Allison are the first to arrive at the loft. They're dressed — rather adorably, even Derek has to admit — in matching Prince Charming and Cinderella outfits. Although, Derek's not entirely sure Allison's bow and arrow came with the original outfit.

Scott takes in Derek's normal jeans and black shirt and raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything.

Lydia, however, who arrives five minutes later dressed as a flapper — with Jackson who seems to be a strange hybrid cross of the Incredible Hulk and Godzilla — takes one look at Derek and says, "you know Stiles is going to make you change."

Derek rolls his eyes. "I'd like to see him try."

.

Half an hour later, Erica, Isaac and Boyd — (who are respectively: Batwoman, Captain Kirk and Darth Vadar) — sit with the rest of the Pack in the Loft.

Stiles still hasn't shown up.

"Where is he?" Isaac grumbles. "I'm hungry but he always gets pissed off when we order without him."

"He just texted me saying he's just finishing off his outfit," Scott announces. "Apparently — and his words not mine — it's spectacular."

Derek snorts into his beer. "Really?"

"Don't me mean, Derek," Cora (looking mildly terrifying dressed as James Bond) calls from across the room. "I'm sure it's wonderful."

"Oh, let's be real here," Erica chips in, "when is Derek actually mean to Stiles?"

"He tries to hide the soft spot but—" Malia's teasing voice is cut off mid sentence by Derek throwing a pillow at her.

"I do not a have a soft spot," he growls.

Isaac opens his mouth to reply but just as he does the doorbell rings. Derek gets up to answer it, but Erica pushes him back down with a knowing look and flounces towards the door.

Lydia rolls her eyes. "Last chance," she says darkly.

"What?" Derek exclaims exasperatedly.

"You do realise he's going to make you change regardless?" Jackson says.

Allison nods in agreement. "You know how he gets when his mind is set on something."

"Don't be—" Derek begins but his dismissal is cut off mid sentence by a thing appearing in his line of sight. For a moment, Derek is overcome by his primal animal urge to attack the monster in front of him. Then slowly he notices the long fingers appearing from the sleeves of the outfit, the curve of the neck leading up to the truly hideous mask.

It's Stiles...but it's Stiles dressed as a—

"Are you meant to be an Alpha?" Scott's voice breaks through Derek's internal monologue of WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT BOY DOING NOW and he fully takes in Stiles' costume.

It's a large mask, leathery and skin coloured with a flat noise and snarled teeth. The eyes are a dark crimson and there are a alarming sideburns running down the cheeks. On his body, Stiles is wearing a tight black t-shirt — which looks oddly like one of Derek's — with a rip down the middle, complete with drainpipe jeans and a leather jacket.

Which also looks like one of Derek's.

In a split second Derek decides he's going to murder Stiles next time they're alone together.

"I'm Alpha-Derek, actually," Stiles informs them happily, wedging himself on the sofa between Isaac and Cora. Isaac flinches nervously away from the mask.

Actually he might not even have the patience to wait long enough for them to be alone to murder him.

"You're—" Derek begins incredulously.

"Mhm," Stiles agrees, oblivious to everyone's slightly dumbstruck looks. "But more importantly, why the hell aren't you in fancy dress, Derek Hale?"

"I—"

An ominous silence descends around the group. Everyone looks at Derek and it takes a moment for him to remember he's a freaking Alpha and won't be bossed around by this mole-speckled, long-fingered teenager.

"Because it's stupid," Derek grumbles.

From somewhere to his left Derek's pretty sure he hears someone – possibly Cora – mutter, "wrong answer."

Stiles smiles sweetly but it's the kind of smile which screams /I'm going to make you fucking pay for that/. "In the case," he says, "you're going to have to face the penalty."

"There's a freaking penalty?" Derek says, aghast. "Look, if you really want I'll pay for dinner but—"

"That's not the penalty," Allison says, her voice slightly strained as if trying to contained laughter.

"Nuh uh," Scott agrees in a similar tone.

"What!?" Derek exclaims. "No one told me about this penalty? How does everyone know about this but me?"

"I did try to warn you," Erica points out from where she's perched on Boyd's lap.

"When!?"

"Tuesday," Boyd agrees, "but if I remember correctly your exact reply was: 'if you mention that goddamn fancy dress party one more time I'm going to take this fucking lemon and shove it down your fucking throat.'"

"Ouch," Cora winces.

"Shut up," Derek growls, "you can't make me do this."

"I think we can," Cora says with a smile which Derek decides is bordering psychotic.

"How?" Derek asks.

"I'll give Stiles all your school pictures from second grade onwards."

"You wouldn't dare," Derek hisses.

Cora waves an alarmingly thick envelope. "Watch me."

"Come on, Hale," Isaac teases, "if she gives them to Stiles you won't hear the end of it for years."

"Fine, fine," Derek stands up begrudgingly. "I'll do it. But I hope you know I hate you all. And the food better be here when I'm back."

"Excellent," Stiles leaps up, grabbing Derek's and leading him in the direction of his bedroom. "Order us both a Hawaiian whilst we're gone."

.

"No," Derek says. "No fucking way."

"Aw, come on, Derek," Stiles whines, "it'll be fun."

"No, it won't be fun," Derek informs him, "it'll be fucking mortifying."

"More mortifying than your school photos?" Stiles wheedles. He's no longer wearing his terrifying mask. Probably in the hope that he'll be able to win Derek over with his ridiculously puppy-dog eyes. Not that it's working.

Maybe it is.

Not that Derek will ever admit it, though.

"Yes," Derek replies, "wait—no—yes—no. Fine, I'll do it."

"Atta boy," Stiles whoops enthusiastically, throwing the heinous object of clothing at Derek and collapsing on his bed.

Derek picks up the...thing distastefully before glaring at Stiles. "Go away, I need to change."

"Derek, most of the time you're never actually wearing a shirt," Stiles says pointedly, "it's nothing I haven't seen before."

"Every heard of privacy?" Derek mutters.

"Nope, but if you want I can close my eyes?"

"Fine—actually, talking of shirts: does that one you're wearing now belong to me by any chance?"

Stiles looks shifty. "Maybe."

Derek sighs exasperatedly. "I hate you."

"I had to get the full alpha-Derek effect," Stiles argues. "Anyway, I look kinda hot in it."

Derek doesn't say anything. He's been trying to ignore the fact that Stiles, in fact does look incredibly hot in skin tight black shirts. Instead he peels off his own shirt and glares at Stiles again.

"Do I really have to do this topless?"

"Yes," Stiles replies. He's not being particularly subtle, staring openly at Derek's chest.

"Stop staring then," Derek snaps, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them off too. Standing in only his underwear in front of Stiles is a) a situation he's never imagined himself to be in but b) not particularly awkward now that it's actually happening.

Picking up the offensive item of clothing, Derek regards it distastefully for a long moment before wincing and slipping into it. He closes his eyes and when he opens them Stiles is lying on his bed still the biggest smile on his face.

"I hate you," Derek mutters.

"No you don't," Stiles replies leaping off the bed and moving towards Derek. He stops half a foot away from Derek, the smile still on his face. "Never would I have thought the day would come when I saw Derek Hale in a pink tutu."

"Shut up," Derek mutters.

"Make me."

Derek closes the gap in one movement, his lips moving against Stiles' and for a second he thinks Stiles is going to move away but all he does is sigh a little into Derek, arms creeping around his waist, hands slipping down the waistband of the tutu.

Derek's hands are tangling themselves in Stiles' hair and Stiles is pushing him towards the bed when several things happen at once.

The door of the bedroom flies about revealing the rest of the pack crowding in the door frame.

There's a flash as a camera goes off.

A voice calls, "pizza's here!" from the door.

And Stiles crashes backwards onto the bed with Derek on top of him.

A sea of loud laughter erupts from the door and it takes a moment for Derek to realise the utter ridiculousness of the situation:

He's lying on top of Stiles Stilinski in a motherfucking tutu.

Someone needs to shoot him with a wolfs bane bullet right about now.

"Hey," comes a slightly strained voice from below Derek, "I think you're cutting off my breathing airways."

With a growl, Derek rolls off Stiles onto the bed beside him. At the door, the Pack are in various stages of hysteria.

Cora is lying on the floor with tears running down her face. Allison and Lydia are clinging onto each other for stability whilst laughing. Jackson is pounding Scott's shoulder whilst yelling, "dude, I fucking told you - you owe me fifty bucks." Erica and Boyd are making out. Isaac is arguing with the pizza man whilst fishing out spare change from the emergency money jar and trying to hold back is laughter.

Derek closes his eyes.

Maybe when he opens them every will turn out to just have been a very bad dream.

.

As it turns out, the events were not a very bad dream, but as Derek sits on the sofa — still in the ridiculous tutu — with Stiles snuggled up against his chest, eating a Hawaiian pizza Derek decides it could've been a lot worse.

And even if it was all Stiles' fault that doesn't necessarily mean it was a bad thing.

.

.

.

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